


let it be me

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drabble, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 13:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20064946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: “Calls and texts,” Yuta mocks an impressed look. “Wow, you must really be into this guy.” – Youngho/Doyoung





	let it be me

**Author's Note:**

> written as part of ‘piece of your heart’ and roulette two 🍊

“Where are we going?”

“To the library.” Youngho suppresses a groan, clearing his throat instead. Doyoung glances at him quickly and rolls his eyes before looking away, “What now?”

“We’re always going to the library,” Youngho says. He notices Doyoung struggling to balance his things, books and laptop and coffee cup cradled in his arms. He plucks the laptop from Doyoung’s hands, helping the younger boy lest it all topples to the ground, “Can’t we hang out some place else?”

“Where else are we supposed to go if we want to study?” Doyoung taps his card to get into the building, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool air that hits him. Building 53 has always been particularly frosty.

“I don’t know, to an empty room or something.”

“And where would we find one so conveniently empty for us?” Doyoung leads them up the stairs. Youngho tries not to trip over his own two feet, following closely, “Don’t you have to study too?”

He shrugs, “Not really. I don’t have any finals this term.”

“Lucky you,” Doyoung drawls. He comes to a stop at the glass entrance to the library, and Youngho has to dig his foot into the carpet to stop himself from colliding into Doyoung. That would do nothing to help with his racing heart. Doyoung looks at him, “Why are you here if you aren’t studying?”

Youngho’s heart doubles over. Yeah, why _was_ he here, he wonders. Certainly not to spend the next three hours hunched over watching videos on Youtube, sneaking glances at his best friend, praying he doesn’t get caught admiring the way his best friend pulls his lips into a perfect pout while going through his readings.

Yeah, no. Youngho knows exactly why he’s here.

“To hang out with you.”

Doyoung looks at him like that’s the stupidest answer in the world, “What? You’re wasting precious time, Youngho. You could be working extra hours at the café right now.”

“I could be, but I’m not.”

Youngho tries to keep the dejection out of his voice. He’d been sincere, of course, about wanting to spend time with Doyoung, it’s all he’s been wanting to do lately. But it’s a fact–carved in stone–that Doyoung doesn’t get it. Will never get it. There’s no way he would ever think of Youngho as anything but a best friend, and that makes him feel… dirty, almost.

For having feelings for Doyoung, that is. For wanting to be more than just best friends with the boy he’s known since freshmen year, since the time Youngho volunteered to host campus tours and Doyoung was simply–_there_. He was new to the university and he had a map and a pen, studiously jotting down building numbers and marking it on the little brochure; Youngho’s jaw had dropped and he swore on his life he’d never seen anyone else cuter.

It’d taken him a lot of encouragement and physical shoving from Yuta to approach Doyoung in those last five minutes before the tour ended.

Doyoung shrugs, lowering his voice as they cross the threshold to the library, “Whatever floats your boat.”

_You float my boat_, Youngho thinks, albeit dumbly. He shakes the thought from his head and follows Doyoung down rows and rows of study cubicles. It’s not an ideal place to be, seeing as there’s no talking allowed, but Youngho desperately takes whatever he can get with Doyoung.

They find two empty spots by a secluded area of the library, and in no time, Doyoung has his desk set up and his nose stuck in a textbook. Youngho finds this routine, so he watches a couple of Youtube videos (and Doyoung out of the corner of his eyes), but succumbs to a nap about an hour into waiting for Doyoung to finish his promised three chapters.

It’s a fitful nap, Youngho knows. He can’t get comfortable and something nags at him at the back of his mind. His long legs are folded awkwardly under him, and he’s about to give up and return to watching movies when he feels it.

A gentle caress, slender fingers carding through his hair.

His first instinct is to hit it away, but his sixth sense says not to. The touch goes on for what feels like a full minute, and Youngho has to curl his toes to keep from freaking out because–who else could be touching his hair, if it weren’t for Kim Doyoung?

Youngho locks all of his limbs into place, convinces himself that if he doesn’t move, time would stop for him. He controls his breathing and tries not to flinch when Doyoung’s fingers brush against the shell of his ear, sending a shudder down his back.

Quietly, he hears, “Soft.”

And, sixth, seventh, _eighth_ sense be damned, Youngho’s hand flies up to circle Doyoung’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He opens his eyes to find Doyoung absolutely horrified, caught in the act of–of–whatever he was doing.

“Nothing,” Doyoung blabbers, when asked. He snatches his hand away from Youngho and rises to his feet, averting his eyes, “I–I have to go. To the bathroom.”

“Doyoung–”

But he’s already scurrying off, like a bunny with its tail tucked between its legs.

Inwardly, Youngho curses. Why did he do that? He shouldn’t have–scared Doyoung off with his straightforwardness. He knows better than to crowd Doyoung into a corner, knows that Doyoung is more than capable of slipping away from situations like these. Still dazed from his nap, he follows Doyoung back around the maze of bookshelves, speeding up when he sees the younger boy take a turn for the stairwell instead.

“Doyoung–” The door shuts behind them, the sound of it echoes of the walls. Youngho reaches for Doyoung’s arm, tries to keep him from bounding down five flights of stairs, “Wait, I didn’t mean–”

“Let go of me!” Doyoung tugs himself free. He clambers up the stairs before turning around, placing the handrails between them.

“Sorry,” Youngho lifts his hands up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Doyoung glares at him, breathing heavily through his nose.

“But you have to answer me.” Youngho braves himself for an answer he doesn’t want to hear, for a question he doesn’t know if he should ask, “What–what were you doing?”

“Nothing!” Doyoung backs away from the railings, fists clenched tight at his sides, “I wasn’t doing anything!”

Youngho recoils. He clearly caught Doyoung playing with his hair, there’s no doubt about it. Did he just do it in the spur of the moment? Or was it something he’d thought about doing for a long time now? Just as Youngho had?

“Doyoung–”

“Drop it,” he says, closing his eyes. Youngho watches, emotions tangled. Doyoung sighs, “Just drop it, okay, I don’t want this.”

Youngho freezes, “You–don’t want what?”

Doyoung’s face screws into a look he doesn’t recognize. And then it’s smooth once more, concealing everything. Youngho opens his mouth to say _I like you, Doyoung_, to just throw caution into the wind because what was Doyoung doing?

But the younger boy is moving to leave, “Nothing.”

“Doyoung, I–”

“I said it’s nothing.” Youngho can’t move enough to stop him from leaving, doesn’t know if Doyoung would appreciate being stopped from leaving. Doyoung places his hand on the handle, murmuring softly, “Just forget anything ever happened.”

+

“Okay. I’m going to ask again–are you sure he wasn’t just flicking something off your head?”

Youngho groans, “No, Yuta.” He tilts the jug of milk in his hand, carefully filling up the cup of coffee, foam at the top. He dusts the top with chocolate powder, “He was touching my hair. Like he was petting me.”

“Dude.” Yuta wrinkles his nose, “Innuendos.”

Youngho inhales sharply, “Not _petting_ me–I mean. He was like, you know–playing with my hair.”

“And because of that you haven’t spoken to him in a week?”

“It’s not like I don’t want to.” Youngho places the cup on a saucer and brings it up to the counter for it to he served, “He’s been ignoring all of my calls and texts.”

“Calls _and_ texts,” Yuta mocks an impressed look. “Wow, you must really be into this guy.”

“Couldn’t you at least try to be more helpful?”

Yuta pretends to think it over, “No.” He hops off the counter, nearly sending a bunch of glasses over, “I’m busy. Got a date tonight.”

Doyoung’s voice is so clear in his mind when he thinks, _Lucky you_.

“He should be coming by soon,” Yuta says, untying his apron swiftly. He hooks it on one of the wall hooks, listing the following, “Pretty tall, pretty cute, pretty gorgeous, answers to Jung Jaehyun. Tell him to wait a little if he gets here; he’s new in town and I don’t want him leaving just because he doesn’t see–well, me.”

“Right.” Youngho starts on his next order, but calls out when he sees Yuta head for the backroom, “And where are you going?”

“I can’t go on a date smelling like coffee beans,” is all Yuta says before disappearing through the door.

Youngho shakes his head, wondering what he’d done in his past life to deserve a friend like Yuta. The boy was constantly taken out on lavish dates and he was never shy about the number of guys that’d grovel at his feet for attention. Comparing that with Youngho’s dry and barren love life–it’s a pity, if anything.

The bell on the front door jingles and Youngho looks up from his half-made iced latte, customary greeting on the tip of his tongue.

“Hey there, how’re you–oh.”

And there he stands, the one boy Youngho would grovel for. He still looks as prim and pristine, as perfect as he always does, unlike Youngho, whose hair has seen better days. It’s been hard, getting out of bed while knowing his best friend is off in the world pretending he doesn’t exist, pretending his existence been wiped clean off the face of the earth.

“Hi.” Doyoung steps further into the café, and the door behind him swings shut. He clasps his hands together, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Youngho scoffs, but it doesn’t sound entirely malicious. Not when it’s dripping with relief. He swirls the espresso around as he speaks, “I wonder why that is.”

Doyoung frowns, “Youngho.”

“I know why you’re acting all weird around me,” Youngho hurries, refusing to give Doyoung a chance to speak. He doesn’t want to hear again about what happened that day, he just wants to put everything behind him. If anything, it’s just solidified what they are, what they’ll always be–best friends, nothing more. “About that day in the library. I’m sorry I grabbed you. I really shouldn’t have.”

“That’s not–”

“I honestly–don’t know what I was doing,” Youngho goes on. He pours cold milk into the cup, watching it fill up, moving on instinct, “I must’ve had a really weird–dream or something, but I–we don’t have to talk about it, Doyoung, I’ve already forgotten about it.”

_Lies!_

Doyoung says nothing.

“I understand that I really shouldn’t have went after you, I–I don’t know why I did that.” _Liar! You’re a liar,_ Youngho thinks. _You did it because you thought there’d be a sliver of hope that whatever Doyoung did meant–something you wanted it to mean._ “Let’s just put it behind us, okay?”

Doyoung steps close to the counter, gaze unsteady, “You’d want that?”

“Of course, Doyoung.” Youngho sighs, moving to scoop some ice into the cup. He places it on the counter for it to be served, and one of the runners comes by to grab it. Youngho rests his hands against the counter, finally looking up at Doyoung, “You’re my best friend, Doyoung. I don’t want to ruin our friendship over something stupid I did.”

“But I was the one–”

The bell jingles once more.

In walks pretty tall and pretty cute and pretty gorgeous, and Youngho knows right off the bat that this boy definitely answers to Jung Jaehyun. He waves the boy over, momentarily forgetting his place in time. Jung Jaehyun shuffles over, fingers gripping the hem of his maroon sweatshirt, cheeks a pretty pink.

“Jaehyun, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun nods. He bites on his lip and literally everything about him is a complete opposite to Yuta’s usual type. They were usually older, taller, louder. Jung Jaehyun seemed too far off the equation, if Youngho were being honest. “Are you Youngho?”

He smiles, “I am.” Grabbing a menu from behind him, he leans over the counter to hand it to Jaehyun, “Do you want a drink while you wait? It’s on the house.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen, so terribly innocent to the point Youngho feels this innate need to take care of him. Like a puppy, really. “Really?” He takes the menu from Youngho with both hands, scanning the list quickly.

“Yeah, of course,” Youngho says, smiling at Jaehyun’s surprise. He grabs another glass from the left of the counter and when he looks up, he nearly stumbles backwards. Doyoung is still here–some part of his muddled brain didn’t register this, trying to fulfill his wingman duties by making Yuta’s date feel as comfortable as possible.

But what has him stuttering is the look on Doyoung’s face; his lips are pressed together thinly and his brows are furrowed together tightly. His eyes flit between Youngho and Jaehyun, sharp and unrelenting, and Youngho is too dense to figure it out.

“Could I just get an iced latte?” Jaehyun doesn’t notice the palpable tension in the air, and Youngho is thankful. He doesn’t know what to do with it either. Jaehyun returns the menu with a quiet thank you, and Youngho takes it back, eyes warily on Doyoung, intent on watching his every breath.

_What the hell?_

“I’ll bring it over to you later,” Youngho says, needing Jaehyun to be gone as quickly as possible. He can’t afford collateral damage on Jaehyun; Yuta would have his head and then the rest of his body on a rusty stake. He moves quickly, knows Doyoung enough to see the patience run low on the younger boy, a corner of his lips pulling up into a grimace. “Please take a seat wherever you’d like.”

Jaehyun beams, “Thank you, Youngho.” And my god, curse this kid’s friendliness, because he’s turning to Doyoung now, nodding in acknowledgement. Doyoung’s face twists, but Jaehyun doesn’t notice, bless him. He leaves then, a skip to his step and Youngho is left alone to face–whatever it is Doyoung has in store for him.

“Who was that?”

Youngho blanches at the malice in his voice. His sixth sense returns, tells him to thread lightly, “A friend of mine.”

Doyoung tips his chin up, “I’ve never heard you mention him.”

_What?_ Youngho frowns. Sure, he was in the wrong for making a big deal out of nothing the day they were in the stairwell, but Doyoung can’t just cut off all ties with him for a week, only to come traipsing back in with this attitude. He grabs another glass to start on Jaehyun’s order, “He’s a new friend.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, “Where from?”

“I don’t know,” Youngho shrugs, “Class?”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Is he waiting for you to get off work?” Doyoung folds his arms across his chest and Youngho readies two shots of espresso, glancing at Doyoung over the machine, “Well?”

“What’s going on with you?” Youngho pours it into the glass, shaking it around to cool it down a little. “Since when do you care who I’m friends with?”

Doyoung makes an indignant noise, “Just answer the question.”

Youngho shakes his head, “You’re being ridiculous right now.”

“Ridiculous–” And it riles Doyoung up, “I came here to talk to you, not watch you flirt with someone else!”

“I wasn’t _flirting_,” Youngho gapes. In what world couldn’t Kim Doyoung tell the difference between friendliness and being flirty; Youngho doesn’t know if he’s woken up to an alternate universe. He can count the number of times Doyoung’s lost his cool with him on a single hand and none of them have been over something so trivial.

“What are you talking about, Doyoung,” Youngho finishes making the drink quickly, “He’s not waiting for me to get off work.”

“Then why is he here?” Doyoung follows him down the counter, stopping him from moving a step further when they round the corner together, “Youngho, I–have to tell you something.”

Maybe it’s the seriousness he hears, or the shine in Doyoung’s eyes, but Youngho deflates. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t say yes to if Doyoung asked for it. Being in love for four straight months does that to a person.

“Okay,” Youngho says. Doyoung’s shoulders drop in what he assumes to be relief, but they hitch past his ears when Youngho adds, “I’ll be back after I bring this over to Jaehyun, so just–”

“No.” Doyoung sidesteps to block his path, “I have to talk to you now.”

“Can’t it wait, Doyoung?” Youngho looks over his shoulder, wishing so terribly Yuta would just be done with whatever he’s doing to stop smelling like coffee beans. What was wrong with smelling like coffee beans anyway? “I told Jaehyun I’d bring it over to him, and I wanted to tell him about–”

“No, it can’t.” Doyoung reaches for the coffee and Youngho lets go willingly, letting Doyoung set it down on the counter once more, “I have to talk to you now. It’s–it’s important.”

Youngho grabs the glass again, sighing. He looks over Doyoung’s head, smiling gently when Jaehyun perks up, waving timidly at Youngho. He looks back at Doyoung, confused by the anxiousness he feels practically radiating from Doyoung’s skin, “Why didn’t you just–return my calls if it was so important?” He’s immediately apologetic when Doyoung inhales sharply, “I mean, this will just take a second Doyoung, I just have to make sure Jaehyun’s doing okay by himself–”

“Why do you care so much about him?” Doyoung grabs the glass again, and this time it sloshes around, spilling over his hand. He doesn’t care, resting it heavily against the counter. “I said I wanted to talk to you.”

Youngho stuns. Frustration speaks before he can, “And I’ve been wanting to talk to you the entire week. Did you care enough to pick up? No. Did you care enough to answer my texts?”

“I–”

“No, you didn’t.” Youngho takes the glass and retreats behind the counter once more. Roughly, he dumps the contents down the sink. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Doyoung, but frankly, you can’t act like this with me–even if I _am_ your best friend.”

“Youngho–”

“Okay, and now you have something to tell me,” Youngho rambles on, starting on a new drink for Jaehyun. He moves quickly, doesn’t think to offer any Doyoung any napkins for his coffee covered hand, “What is it?”

Doyoung hesitates, “Not here.”

Youngho glances up in disbelief, “_Doyoung_.”

“I can’t tell you here!” Doyoung looks on the verge of running off once more, and honestly, Youngho wonders if that’s the best option for them both right now. “And I couldn’t tell you over the phone or through text. I–I wanted to tell you in person. In private.”

Youngho sighs. He can’t fight Doyoung, he doesn’t want to fight Doyoung.

Shortly, he calls for someone to take over his spot behind the counter and tells him to fix Jaehyun’s drink immediately. He grabs a couple of napkins for Doyoung belatedly, helping him wipe the coffee off his hands. Doyoung stands and watches, motionless.

Tossing the wadded up tissues in the trash, Youngho pushes the door to the backroom open and gestures for Doyoung to come with.

Just as they enter however, Yuta materializes out of thin air, midway pulling a sweater over his head. He jolts to a stop, looking at Youngho then Doyoung, then at Youngho again. Standing behind Doyoung, Youngho shakes his head, and Yuta clears his throat, “Is he–”

“Yeah.” Youngho jerks his thumb vaguely towards Jaehyun’s general direction, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Yuta says. He gives Doyoung another glance as he leaves, but not without mouthing a _Good luck_ back to Youngho.

He leads Doyoung towards the small wall of lockers, walking in far enough before turning on his heels to face Doyoung, who’s sticking close to the wall furthest from Youngho, hands held tightly in front of him as it was earlier.

“Right.” Youngho cracks his knuckles, body absorbing Doyoung’s nervous energy, “What is it?”

“Who’s Jaehyun?” Doyoung asks instead, “Is he–are you dating him?”

“What? No,” Youngho brings a hand up to run his hair through his hands. Doyoung’s eyes follow the motion, “He’s Yuta’s date. I just met him today.”

“Oh.” Doyoung’s hands fall to his sides. If Youngho didn’t know any better, he’d think Doyoung to be relieved. Shortly, “Okay.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? If I were dating anyone?”

Doyoung’s jaw tightens, “Yes.”

Youngho can’t believe his ears, “Right.” This day has been going on for far too long. He shrugs, “Well, I’m not. I’m not dating Jaehyun, I’m not dating anyone. Is that it?”

“Youngho–”

“Seriously, Doyoung,” Youngho shakes his head. He heads back for the exit and Doyoung backpedals when he approaches, as if–he were afraid. _Crap_. “I have to get back to work,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but Doyoung, “I’ll make you a drink, if you want to stay, but you really don’t have to anymore.”

Doyoung blinks, “What?”

Youngho hates this, “I know I made things weird between us, so I’m just saying–if you need more space, or if you don’t want to hang out anymore, I get it. It’s fine, Doyoung.”

“That’s not–” Doyoung moves, and again, he blocks Youngho’s path albeit uselessly with his narrow frame. Youngho could push past if he wanted to. Doyoung swallows thickly, “That’s not what I want.”

Youngho is so tired of these games, _Jesus_, “Then what do you want, Doyoung?” He backs away, words spilling from his lips before he can think to stop them, “That day in the library, when I was sleeping, you–you were playing with my hair, weren’t you?”

Doyoung looks as if he’s just uttered the world’s deepest darkest secret.

“And I took it the wrong way, I know,” Youngho refuses to look at Doyoung. “You were probably just–well, I don’t know what the hell you were doing, playing with my hair, but I know it’s not–it’s not what I think it is.”

Doyoung breathes quiet, a hand coming up to tug at the collar of his knitted sweater, “What–what did you think I was doing?”

“I don’t _know_, Doyoung, I don’t even know what you’re doing right now and half the time I don’t even know what _I’m_ doing anymore.”

“I’m–” Doyoung pulls hard on his collar, and Youngho tries not to dizzy at the exposure of his skin, god. He bites on his lip, his two front teeth so insanely attractive to Youngho that it takes him more effort than necessary to keep from staring, “Be honest with me.”

Youngho doesn’t follow, “What? I’m always honest with you, Doyoung.”

“Okay, then tell me–” Doyoung brings his hand up to his lips, pressing his fist hard against his chin, “Do you like me?”

Oh great.

Oh great. Great, great, great.

Dumbly, “What?”

“Do you like me?” Doyoung’s knuckles are turning white, but his gaze is unblinking, trying to suck the truth out of Youngho. He stammers, “Tell me the truth.”

Youngho can’t lie, doesn’t want to lie. “Yes,” and in one breath, “I like you, Doyoung.” Instantly, Doyoung’s brows shoot up to his hairline and his jaw drops to the ground. Youngho’s heart flies out the window and he steps away, “I like you, okay? I’m not dating Jaehyun, I’m not dating anyone because I like you, alright.”

“Youngho–”

“And I stupidly thought you were playing with my hair because you liked me too, because what the hell, Doyoung, why would you just play with someone’s hair like that?” He starts to ramble, watching Doyoung’s look of surprise fade, “Like I mean–haven’t you heard of the concept of personal space, like you can’t just go around touching people’s hair like that, you’re really going to give them the wrong impression and _moreover_–”

“I like you, Youngho.”

He clamps his mouth shut and it locks, unable to ever move, ever speak again.

Doyoung presses his palms to his cheeks, as if he were trying to stop himself from smiling too wide, “I was touching your hair because I like you and I couldn’t help it, okay? And I know I shouldn’t have ran and that I should’ve just told you about it when you asked me but I couldn’t. I didn’t know if you liked me back and I didn’t want our friendship to end so I tried to avoid you, but–” he drops his hands, voice going along with it, “the entire week was a pain without you constantly badgering me and I really missed you, but when I came here, you were so busy smiling at that Jaehyun guy and–what do you mean by that? I never play with anyone’s hair but yours, okay so could you please say something before I embarrass myself further or do you want me to just keep going?”

“You–” Youngho’s tongue feels to fat for his mouth, “You like me?”

“Yes.” Doyoung smiles, small and unsure, “I like you.”

Youngho stares. Then looks at the corners of the ceiling, “This isn’t a prank, right? You’re not filming me or anything just to get me? Because I swear, Doyoung, if you are–”

“It’s not a prank.” Doyoung wrings his hands, pauses, then reaches for Youngho’s, holding on firmly, “I like you, Youngho. I–I like a lot of things about you and I like you a lot.”

Youngho withers and his legs turn into jelly, “You like me.”

Doyoung’s brow arches, “Yes, I just said exactly that. How many times more are you going to ask me this?”

“Once more.”

“I like you,” Doyoung’s cheeks redden and it travels up to his ears, “I like you, I like you, I like you. Is that good enough?”

“I like you too,” Youngho mumbles. He squints, “But when did you–start liking me?” Doyoung glowers, “I mean, you never looked–you never seemed like you were interested me–like that.”

“Aren’t you at least going to take me out to dinner before making me inflate your ego?”

“Of course.” Youngho can’t stop smiling, “Of course I will.”

Doyoung trails his free hand up Youngho’s side, resting lightly against Youngho’s shoulder. He licks his lips and Youngho thinks he should know better than to think Doyoung would want him to, “Kiss me?”

Youngho’s heart drops straight to his ass, “What?”

“Do you want to?” Doyoung licks his lips again, fingers digging into Youngho’s shoulder, “I–sometimes I notice how you look at me when I’m studying, Youngho, I’m not daft. I just–was never sure if you did because you wanted me. Or if I was just thinking it in my head.”

Youngho’s cheeks light on fire, “I–I–”

“And I look at you too.” Doyoung runs his tongue over bottom row of teeth, breathing softly through his mouth, “You’re so distracting when you come with me to the library–I never get anything done, you know? Why do you think I keep trying to get you to get out of there?”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Doyoung juts his lower lip out, “Really.”

Youngho rests his hands tentatively on Doyoung’s hips, steeling his heart. Oh for _god_ knows how long has he waited for a chance like this, how often has he dreamed of a chance like this. “Are you sure?” Youngho tries to remember what he had for lunch. Should he even be using tongue? A first kiss shouldn’t have tongue, right? Did Doyoung want him to use tongue?

“If we kiss now, we can’t go back to–being just friends.”

Doyoung tilts his head to the side, “I don’t want to be just friends. I don’t want to just be your best friend anymore.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Right now?” Doyoung inches close, “I want you to kiss me, Youngho.”

And Youngho does, because he can’t deny Doyoung, and he doesn’t want to either. Doyoung melts in his hands and Youngho’s heart soars before doubling over once more. If he had to spend the rest of his life carrying Doyoung’s things and following him to the library, it’s a life he’d gladly take–having his best friend be the love of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> please excuse the shoddy writing, i just got carried away and didn’t think too much about the plot ;–;
> 
> twitter | curiouscat


End file.
